


Sofia's Rule

by Sparky (tapsters)



Category: The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-24
Updated: 2016-08-02
Packaged: 2018-04-10 22:45:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4410767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tapsters/pseuds/Sparky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While betrothed to a childhood friend, Zelda grows ever closer to the Hylian army’s enigmatic general. A rewrite of an old story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

For the first time, Zelda allows herself to be late. She counts the minutes from her absence to her entrance by the sands of an hourglass on her father's desk. She paces, fingers clenched in white gloves the reach her elbows, while she waits. Her guests, by now, are fully aware that she is not among them and Zelda imagines their indignation at her tardiness and their concern if they think she is ill. She is still only long enough for the final grain of sand to fall.

There is a long stretch of hallway between Harkinian's office and where her guests are waiting. She walks the length of bright red carpet under the unblinking gaze of her grandparents and ancestors and it feels like she is walking forever. Her heart feels tight in her chest, like a stone set hard against her ribs. A guard stands vigilant at the door, his spear pointed up as if to pierce the sky. He smiles at her and bows at the waist. She smiles back, heart tighter still. When the door opens she is greeted with bright golden light. 

Her guests are bathed in the glow of the chandelier high above them, and to her they all seem like jewels, glittering in the sun. Zelda prays they will not notice her. 

But they do, of course, and the ballroom quiets as she begins a slow descent down the marble staircase, the click of her heels impossibly loud to her ears. Her father greets her at the bottom with a kiss on the apple of her cheek. She smiles again and this time there is a dimple. The crowd part when she takes his arm while they dance. 

“You look lovely, my dear,” Harkinian whispers. 

“Thank you, Father.”

For a moment, she can forget that all eyes are on her and she follows her father's lead. They are graceful as they move, familiarity in every step they take in time with the gentle hum of music. Other dancers join them shortly and it is a quiet symphony. Too soon it is over, the music shifting and partners change tactics with practiced ease. Zelda and Harkinian among them. The partners bow to one another to begin another dance, but when Zelda straightens she does not see her father's kindly old face. 

The young man bows too, his dark curls smoothed back and tied off at the nape of his neck. His tapered ears slant longer than Zelda's, the tip pierced through with a golden hoop. He is handsome, and no stranger, but Zelda swallows her disappointment and offers him a smile. “Hello, Casus,” she says and curtsies politely.

“Hello.” He takes her hand and kisses her knuckles before he guides her with the gentle flow of the other dancers.

“Has Father already made the announcement?” 

“No. He was waiting for you to make your entrance.” 

Then, it would be soon. She glances at the dais as they dance. Her father and Casus's are huddled together, watching them with pleased smiles. The stone in her chest settles in deeper against her ribs, presses tight against her lungs, a dull ache with every beat. As the music winds its way to the end, Harkinian stands and hushes the crowd. Zelda stills next to Casus at the ballroom's center, beneath the chandelier and the scrutiny of the Hylian nobles. She listens to her father, eyes drifting across the many faces – friends and strangers alike – and starts when she meets a cold honey gaze in the crowd. 

He stands at her father's side, dressed in dark colors, fire red hair draping elegantly across his shoulder and braided down to his navel, his hands clasped behind him. He looks very much the sentinel, wide and tall and imposing. 

Ganondorf. A man everyone knew, but no one knew well. He spoke little of himself and even less of his past. Even where he'd come from is a mystery. But he is brilliant, valuable, indispensable. Integrated into Hyrule's military and into her father's council. For Zelda, Ganondorf is a puzzle to be solved, unraveled and studied, apprehension aside.

Zelda looks away when she hears her name and the surge of applause that follows. The nobles are watching her as they clap, warmth and excitement at the prospects before them. Casus looks satisfied, takes her by the hand and they begin to dance again as the music swells around them. A waltz this time, intimate, for lovers. “Prince Casus,” he says and he grins, “Sounds nice to the ear does it not?” 

They spin and Zelda tries to shake Ganondorf from her mind's eye. “It is. Suitable.” 

“Only suitable, Princess?” 

“It will take some getting used to.” 

Again they spin, shifting the line and exchanging partners. They smile at one another when he drops her hand and carries on the dance with his new partner. When Zelda rights herself, she places her hand in Ganondorf's impossibly large palm. “Princess,” he says and bows in time with the other men. 

Her heart, once heavy and lead in her chest, springs to life and color blooms in her cheeks. “My Lord,” she replies when they draw close, his hand at her back. She feels small in his arms, like a girl who dances with her father while she stands on his feet. Thankfully, she does not stumble when they turn, but follows through as smooth as silk and with it, her confidence grows. 

“I admit I was not expecting you, Ganondorf,” she says and dares herself to look into his eyes. They are unreadable. 

“I am sorry to disappoint.”

She manages a laugh, light and airy. Genuine. “I would not say I am disappointed. Only. Surprised.” 

“Then I must keep you guessing.” 

“Why? Afraid for me to know your mind, My Lord?” 

He smiles easily and draws in close to her as the music demands, “I fear nothing.”

As the dance draws to a close, Ganondorf raises her hand to his lips and presses a brief and delicate kiss to her knuckles. Zelda must stand on her toes to accommodate his height.“Congratulations on your engagement, Princess.” He bows and leaves her where she stands. 

Casus touches her back when he finds her and watches Ganondorf's retreat. “What was that about?” 

“He congratulated me.” She seems in awe and Casus glances at her with a soft, noncommittal grunt. Casus had spared Ganondorf not a single thought in the year he'd known the man and yet...

Casus curls his hand into a fist against her back and with a smile he guided her around. “Come. Your father waits for us.” She follows without protest and as they cross the ballroom, he spares a glance for Ganondorf over his shoulder.


	2. Chapter 2

"Checkmate."

Zelda smiles, a show of teeth and the dimple in her cheek. Casus stares at the board in disbelief. Zelda had not been quite so keen on discussing the arrangements of their marriage. It had been Harkinian's suggestion that he get to know her first, to understand her so that she might open up. Their betrothal would feel less like duty for her. For them both. So when he discovered that she played chess, Casus had been the one to suggest a match, once her morning studies were done.

They'd both been players for years, Casus himself the best in his family. But after two hours and six games with the Princess, he'd only won once. This final match, he'd thought, would be easy enough to win. While he kept her king constantly on the move, she'd managed to back his into an inescapable corner, queen poised and primed for an attack. She is a tactician and a masterful one at that.

He laughs and stands with his hands up, defeated. “No more, I yield.”

“Are you sure? We've time for one more match,” she says and begins moving the pieces back to their places.

“I would like to leave with what little of my dignity remains in tact.”

“As you wish.” She shrugs, smug with satisfaction. “Practice more and perhaps one day you will be a worthy opponent.” Her mother had been her tutor in the game and there'd been no better player. She would be proud to see her daughter now, putting her lessons to good use.

Casus pulls a face, poking his tongue through his teeth. “You are impossible.” With a grin he adds: “Our fathers are waiting for us. Shall we go?”

Zelda nods, “I will put the board away and join you shortly.”

When she is alone, she folds the heavy wooden board close and starts for the shelf where it rests.

“I've heard you are impossible.”

Zelda stops in her tracks, her pulse thumping against her throat. When she turns, she tries not to fidget and tries harder not to blush. Ganondorf smiles, despite her failings and nods to the board tucked under her arm. 

“Casus is just impulsive,” she says quickly, “he would be a better player if he would take his time.”

“No need to be so modest for my sake, Your Grace.”

Zelda hugs the board a little more tightly. “I know. I just...”

Ganondorf straightens, his braid slipping from his shoulder, “You've earned your victories. Revel in them.”

She considers this for a moment then offers him a tentative smile, gathering her courage to look him in his eye. “Do you play, Ganondorf?”

“Occasionally.”

“Would you indulge me?”

Amusement glitters in his eyes and he nods toward the table. “Set up the board.”

He joins her where her eager hands set the board for their game. He sits and she does too and afterward the world outside of their own is forgotten. With the final piece set in its place, Zelda gestures to his side of the board. “After you.”

Without hesitation, he moves a pawn – his king's – and looks up at her expectantly. Zelda isn't surprised; Ganondorf hardly seems the cautious type. So she responds in kind, aggressive. They trade pieces for several turns, conversation idle and about nothing at all, before Ganondorf must stop and consider his next move. He rubs his chin thoughtfully as he appraises the lay of the board.

Most of his pawns remain and Zelda has made wise use of her own, so that Ganondorf has only managed to take three. Had she been a lesser player, she would not have been so fortunate. He hovers over his bishop, then takes her knight with it. She laughs and checks his king. “A questionable strategy, my lord,”

“Or a genius one,” he replies and takes her knight. “I am told a chess match can be compared to a military operation.”

“How so?”

“It takes planning and strategy. Organizing. Knowing your enemy.” She glances up from the board to catch his unreadable gaze. “In fact, I'm reminded of a campaign that happened many years ago. Very brilliant if examined from an outside perspective.”

“What do you mean?”

Ganondorf does not answer right away, but instead takes another pawn to add to his growing collection of her pieces. “Imagine if you discover a plot. An enemy plans to invade Hyrule and there is no doubt. You have seen the plans and have heard the treachery with your own ears. How would you respond?”

Zelda shifts in her seat, eyes fixed on the board so she would not have to look at Ganondorf's expression. “Is there no chance at peace?”

“No. None at all. If you do not act, there will be open war and you are vastly outmatched. But you have discovered the plan. You know what is in store for you and your people. How would you respond, Princess?” He asks again and waits. It his turn to move and he refuses until he gets an answer.

“A preemptive strike. There could be no other choice if this invading force refuses to negotiate peace.”

He thinks on what she has said and claims another piece. Her bishop. “Of course. A preemptive strike. Like earlier, when you castled your king.”

She looks down at the board and shakes her head, confusion wrinkling her brow. “Any novice knows to castle their king.”

“Of course, but castling alone will not save him, would it? It would take something a little more decisive. You saw my plan to take your queen two moves before I could take it.” He smiles at her and leans on the table, “And you reacted accordingly. This plan to invade Hyrule and taking preemptive measures is similar. Now, tell me, how would you stop this invasion?”

Zelda must stop and think this through. Her martial training had been somewhat limited to what she'd studied in Hyrule's past and the few military meetings her father had allowed her to sit in on. Still, if they were going with a comparison to chess, she would go with what she knew best. “A strong defense, of course. These invaders could not break the line should the soldiers tighten defense and increase in number.”

Ganondorf nods, and takes his turn, claiming another piece to join the others. “But surely your enemy would notice this. He is, after all, a traitor, sewn in among your very council. You would lose the element of surprise and that, my dear, is the very crux of your defense.”

He was right, of course, and Zelda drew her lip between her teeth. What other options could there possibly be? None that did not give her immediate pause.

“In history, or so I am told, once the plot was discovered, the king and his generals plotted in secret for many days and one night, troops were led to the traitor's doorstep. And one by one, his people were slaughtered.”

Zelda says nothing, as they trade turns, her pieces falling as he tells his story.

“Finally, they capture the traitor himself.” And he set his queen before her king. “Checkmate.”

“What happened to the traitor?” She asks, her voice too soft even to her own ears.

“Executed, of course. On top of the rubble he'd once called home. A checkmate, as it were.”

“And the people? Surely they did not kill everyone?”

“There were survivors. Not many. But a few. Those who lived assimilated into Hylian society and that was the final blow against the Gerudo people. They effectively ceased to exist.” As a culture, as a people.

“I have never heard this.”

“That is not surprising. It has been stricken from Hylian history.” What royal family would want it known they were the cause of the extinction of an entire people?

“Then how do you know this?”

The library is quiet when Harkinian enters, dressed in warm reds and cool golds. For a moment, he thinks the room is empty, for how quiet it is. Then he sees Zelda, sitting across from Ganondorf with the remains of their chess game scattered between them. Ganondorf sees the king first and stands to bow politely at the waist. Zelda doesn't look up at all.

“I'd thought you lost, Zelda,” he says lightly, to cut the tension. When she looks up, her cheeks are tinged red and she is fighting a losing battle against the tears in her eyes. He can't imagine what Ganondorf might've done to her to cause this, but he knows he does not like it. It's a matter than can be settled later, though. For now he will comfort his daughter. Harkinian puts a hand on Zelda's and helps her stand.

“Forgive me, Father. I lost track of time,” she says, as she stands and manages to regain her composure.

Ganondorf is already putting the pieces away. “I must apologize, Your Grace. I did not know you had an appointment. Go, I will put the board away.”

She thanks him then tucks her arm beneath her father's as they leave together. Zelda is silent for most of the trip, but stops Harkinian when they are just shy of their destination. “Father...might I ask you something?”

“Certainly, Zelda. Anything.”

“Who were the Gerudo?”

Harkinian's eyes widen, then steel sets behind them and he frowns. “What has Ganondorf--”

“This has nothing to do with Ganondorf, Father. I am asking you this. Why have I never heard of these people before?”

“Zelda...”

“What happened to them?” she demands. She is not interested in his excuses. Only the truth. Harkinian shakes his head and moves past her so he could join Casus and his father.

“Nothing I wish to discuss.”

“Tell me!”

He stops, his gaze setting on some distant intangible thing. When he turns, his voice is sharp, sharper than any tone he'd ever taken with her. “Nothing that concerns you, Zelda. It is in the past and best left there.”

She shakes her head and starts to respond but he silences her with hand. “Do not. Ask me. Again.”

Harkinian leaves her, the steel that had once been set in his features bleeding away to the genial old man he is known as. Zelda stands where she is, clenching her fingers and does not join them until her father calls for her.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ganondorf and Zelda discover something else they have in common.

Perhaps if Zelda had been another person, she would have let this matter rest. For two days she is troubled with thoughts of the Gerudo and who they might have been. She scours maps and texts and finds only the barest hints that there'd been people in the desert at all. A tribe of women, warriors, who lived deep within the desert's heart; she would not have even known what they were called had Ganondorf not told her. Their relationship with Hyrule had been tenuous at best. Outright hostile at its worse. And yet there was no mention of a leader, a traitor waiting for his chance to pounce upon an unsuspecting King of Hyrule. That, she thought, would've at least survived whatever culling had fallen upon the historical texts in the library. But, there was nothing. This Gerudo people were there one moment and simply gone in the next, as if they had been quite literally erased from existence.

Zelda did not blame her father; whatever happened back then, had been for the good of Hyrule. That much she would always be able to understand. Yet, what happened to these people, because of one person, it seems so unfair to her. Perhaps there could've been another way. Despite whatever Ganondorf might've believed, peace could always be reached, so long as they had been willing to try.

She stretches in her seat, reaching her arms above her head and stands. Too much time in the library again, she thinks and gathers up her dusty tomes. She thinks about returning them to the shelves, but opts instead to carry them with her and investigate this matter further. She did not know what she would do with her findings – should she have them – but it is an innate need to know and understand. She wanted to see all sides of an issue and know them as intimately as she might know her own. Zelda could not let a mystery go unsolved.

It is a bright and beautiful afternoon when Zelda crosses the courtyard. Ahead of her, she can see Casus and smiles at him when he comes closer. “Do you mean to carry off every book in the library, Princess?” he teases and takes the bundle from under her arms.

“No. I mean to have you do it for me.” They laugh together and Casus falls in step with her as she continues under the high afternoon sun. They chatter endlessly and must stop to laugh under the archway of the castle's entrance. It is. Unexpected how well she gets along with Casus. She would've preferred the chance to choose her own suitor. But Casus is not wholly disagreeable. At least she could stand his company. Perhaps even learn to love it.

They pass the armory courtyard on their way to her room and she stops mid-step, forgets Casus is even with her at all.

The soldier – a recruit, young and inexperienced – is sprawled across the grass, the shield he'd been wielding a few feet from his arm. His opponent, another recruit Zelda assumes, fairs no better. He picks himself up, but keeps his gaze low. Ganondorf stands between them, solid like a tower. And naked from the waist up. She can see the thick raised flesh of a scar, glowing faintly under the folds of his arms. “I will keep you all night, if I must. Do it again. Correctly, if you would,” he says.

Zelda swallows when he leaves them and makes his way to her. Casus has barely registered to either of them. He smiles and bows politely to greet her. “Princess,” he says and when he straightens he casts a cursory and utterly uninterested glance in Casus' direction. “You always manage to catch me at inopportune moments.”

“We apologize for interrupting you,” Casus says before she can reply, and puts a hand against her back, “We were just leaving.”

“What did they do wrong?” Zelda asks, and nods toward the field. She does not budge when Casus tries to nudge her on. Instead she shakes him off.

“He hides behind his shield, instead of holding. See how weak his arm is? I'm of a mind to break it. Perhaps then he'll learn.”

She clears her throat and glances at him, but looks away again just as quickly. “I doubt something so drastic would be necessary. He stands fine, but he must reposition his shield to accommodate.”

“You know shields?”

“I know everything.”

They share a laugh as if a secret is passing between them. Casus nudges Zelda again, and smiles, forced but polite. “We were going to take our lunch, Princess. I would escort you.”

Zelda returns his smile, fondness in her eyes as she puts a hand on his arm. “Forgive me, Casus. Would you take the books to my chamber? I will join you after.”

He looks from Zelda to Ganondorf and back again. Ganondorf does not spare him even a passing thought. With a resolute nod, he turns on his heels and leaves them.

“You've upset him,” Ganondorf says quietly. He folds his arms across his chest.

Zelda does not respond, and looks after Casus' retreating form. Perhaps she had been inconsiderate and the thought set guilt coiling in her belly. She would apologize as soon as she joined him for lunch. Ganondorf leaves her while she watches her suitor's retreat and she turns in time to see him catch a recruit by the arm. He stops the boy dead in his tracks, a cloud of dust kicking up behind him. “It seems I must show you how to do this correctly once again,” he says and drops the recruit on the ground, “Clear the field!”

They scramble from his path, eager and wary all at once. Ganondorf finds his swords – great black blades – and when he spins to demonstrate on the training dummy, he finds he is not alone. Zelda smirks, a longsword in her hand and she raises it, feet firm against the ground. “Shall we dance a second time, my lord?”

He grins and tosses his second blade aside. “As you wish.”

“Three strikes and I win. A night's rest for the recruits will be my prize.”

“And my prize, should I win?” He counters and glances at her left hand.

“Well, I suggest you win.”

They clash in the middle, a shrill metallic clang. Zelda holds but begins to buckle under Ganondorf's tremendous weight. Still, she is small and would have the advantage if she knew how to use it. And, she does. She parries him and dances away. Their audience watches, some leaning on their tall and heavy shields, breathless with anticipation.

Zelda waits and watches, hoping to coax Ganondorf into charging, her longsword pointing at him. Mocking him with that smirk across her lips. When had he assumed that she was a novice? It was a mistake he would not soon repeat. When they meet again, Zelda parries and strikes him with the blunt side of her blade. “I believe that's strike one, my lord.”

They take their stances and Ganondorf watches her, learns her tells. She is easy enough to read. He counters when the clatter in the middle and taps her under her chin with the flat of his blade and a bark of laughter. “Now we are even.”

She's struck him for a second time when the King joins the spectators, Casus at his side. Neither Zelda nor Ganondorf seem to notice, engrossed in defending themselves. Even the recruits seem uninterested in Harkinian's presence. They cover the field, swords meeting and sparking as the metal shrieks. Ganondorf gains the upper hand when Zelda attempts another parry. He catches her sword and knocks it from her hand. He steps on the sword and tilts her chin up with his own. “Tied again, Princess,” he says with a smug smirk.

Harkinian pushes his way through the crowd and finally they notice him. “Enough,” he says and Ganondorf stabs his sword into the ground. Zelda does not acknowledge her father, at least not until he calls her by name. “This is no place for you,” he says as gently as he can and tucks her hand beneath his arm. Ganondorf watches as the king guides his daughter away and smiles when she turns back to look at him before she is gone completely.

His recruits wait behind him and he does not bother to turn around. “The Princess has won you reprieve for the night.” He sheathes his swords and makes his way to the barracks. “Enjoy it. I will not be so kind again.”

They meet again in a lonely hallway, Zelda distant and distracted. She nearly passes him by, before she realizes he's greeted her. Ganondorf is halfway down the hall when she stops and calls out to him. “Forgive me for earlier,” she says and faces him, “I should not have challenged you.”

Ganondorf grunts, “Hardly anyone in this castle is worthy enough to face me.”

She hums quietly, “So it would seem. Your skill is unlike any I've seen.”

“I have lived a long time, Princess.”

She peers at him, quiet for a moment before she makes up her mind, “May I ask you something, my lord?”

“You may.”

“The scar, on your chest, why does it glow?”

Ganondorf looks surprised, as if he'd forgotten then scar was there at all. He clasps his hands behind him and chuckles a little under his breath, “I was run through with a magical sword,” he says simply, as if it were an everyday occurrence.

Zelda's eyes widen, her hand pressing against her mouth to hide her alarm. Ganondorf shakes his head and nods toward the opposite end of the hallway, “This is not a conversation to be had here. If you are not occupied why don't you join me?”

She follows him into the dark hallway, dainty steps keeping pace with his long and purposeful stride. When he stops, she stops behind him, twisting the fabric of her skirts between her fingers. He opens the heavy iron door and she follows him into the massive room. It is cold here, despite the fire burning brightly in the hearth. Swords of all shapes and sizes hang proudly on the walls with shields above them. There is a crest engraved on one that she does not recognize, but she does not have the courage to ask.

As she walks further into the room, she does not notice the door clicking close with a metallic finality. She stops at a display case, mouth agape in her reflection in the glass. “Is this... Is this the true Master Sword?” She asks and looks at her host, awed and incredulous at once.

Ganondorf chuckles and seats himself by the fire where the remains of his dinner wait for him. “A clever replica,” he says, “I've used it once or twice but it is not to my liking. The balance is wrong.”

Zelda continues exploring, touching gingerly the pieces on the wall. There were paintings. Not many, but enough. Many of them were of the desert, of places and people she did not recognize. She looks away when it becomes too much to look into their eyes. Wandering to Ganondorf, she sits near him and the fire and accepts the offered cup of tea gratefully.

“You never answered my question,” she says after a stretch of silence, warming her fingers around the cup.

“What question?”

“How you know so much of the Gerudo, of their history.”

He sets his cup aside and levels Zelda with an unreadable look, as if he were deciding how to answer her. When he does, his voice is softer than she expects, “I am Gerudo, Princess.”

She had thought as much, during her investigation and she nods at his confirmation. “I tried to find them. I searched every map in the library. Every book on the peoples of Hyrule. I could not find 'Gerudo' in any text, recent or dated.”

Ganondorf says nothing. He is not surprised by her revelation. The Hylians had been thorough, clearly more so than he'd thought possible. He watches her expectantly.

“I did, however, manage to cobble together scraps of information. A warrior tribe who lived in the desert. Noble thieves. I would not have known who they were had you not told me. Still, it was the strangest thing.”

“How so?”

“The texts just. Stop.”

This, Ganondorf finds surprising. He stops mid-sip of his tea and regards the princess over the lip of the cup.

“It does not say 'they were there one moment and gone in the next.' It does not mention them leaving or being driven out. It simply. Stops. As if there is more to say but no words to say it.” As if they had simply vanished and there is nothing more to tell. Zelda cannot tell which. Ganondorf frowns and sets his cup on the side table again.

“What book is this?”

“Most of it is in A History of Hyrule.”

“Bring it to me,” he demands and amends it a minute later, “if you would.”

She nods. “I will. When?”

He thinks. Harkinian had not been pleased earlier with their display in the armory courtyard. He would never approve of Zelda bringing him anything. But that is only if Harkinian knew. “Tomorrow night, if you would. I will be out of the castle most of the day. Armor fittings for the new recruits. But I will return by nightfall.”

Zelda hesitates for only a moment before she agrees. Her father would not be happy, but she simply would not tell him. “Tomorrow night, then.”

The hour was late enough and Zelda stands when Ganondorf takes her by the hand and leads her to the heavy iron door. “Good night, Princess,” he says and opens the door so she could take her leave.

“Zelda.”

He still holds her hand and for a moment, they linger by the threshold, waiting for the other to say something – anything at all. Instead, Ganondorf brings her hand to his lips, just as he did the night of the party and kissed her knuckles. Color spreads up her from her neck to her cheeks and by the time she steps into the hallway, she's a bright and unflattering shade of red.

“Good night, Zelda,” he says and the door shuts quietly behind him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Twice Zelda is kissed.

Chancellor Dall always rises early in the morning. He kisses his wife where she still sleeps and bathes in a marble basin. He dresses in Terminian silk and ties off his greying curls at the nape of his neck. He takes his tea by the hearth and eats his sop at the table with capers and dried fruits from the gardens. From there, he makes his way to the castle for the day's business. 

The servants pass him by quickly as he stalks the grounds and the few brave colleagues who greet him do so briefly. Ganondorf is the only one who never shrinks back from him. Dall himself is not a slight man. He is wide and thick and tall to accommodate his girth. Ganondorf stands a head taller and thicker still and Dall hates that he must look up to see him properly. Ganondorf does not stop, but Dall does and calls after him. He will not be ignored today. “I watched the new recruits yesterday,” he says and waits for Ganondorf to turn around before he continues, “I hope they will be worth the coin I have invested in them.” _And in you,_ he thinks with a wry smile.

“Do you intend to start a war, Chancellor?” Ganondorf asks when he turns.

“I intend to protect Hyrule's interests. I cannot do so if that means of protection is incompetent.”

Ganondorf smiles to hide his sneer. “Then perhaps you are looking for incompetence in the wrong place.” Dall frowns, lips pulled in tight and thin, as Ganondorf steps closer, “You needn't worry, Dall. Should the need arise, we will be ready.” 

Dall glares as Ganondorf leaves him and he thinks it would be nothing to sheath his dagger in Ganondorf's back. Hyrulean politics could be quite vicious after all and there were a number of Harkinian's councilmen who did not care for Ganondorf and would shed no tears if he suddenly dropped dead. Dall is alone here, Ganondorf a steadily retreating figure. It would be nothing at all. 

Ganondorf is gone when he touches his dagger's hilt, so he leaves too, disappearing into the shadows of the castle.

It is still early morning when Zelda slips into the dining hall. She finds Casus there, eating his breakfast on the far side of the grand table. He is quiet while he eats, staring ahead at nothing in particular while he spoons broth into his mouth. So she joins him, without a word and gently bumps his shoulder with her own. They do not speak, but they smile at each other over their modest breakfast, like school children. When they finish done, they link their fingers and wander out into the garden.

Bright buds sit on naked tree limbs and it is a vibrant green against the grey cobbled paths that cut through the shrubs and trees. Spring is settling in nicely here. He could almost call this morning perfect.

He rounds a corner, and slides into the cool shade of a tree. Zelda stops him here with a hand on his shoulder and when he turns, she hesitates. “I wanted to apologize. For yesterday,” she says, “I was very rude.”

Casus smiles and squeezes the fingers linked with his. “There is nothing to apologize for. I enjoyed watching you. Your swordsmanship is impressive.”

“Thank you,” she says and huddles in closer against the breeze, “Still, it was a foolish thing to do. I've only had a little martial training. I am nowhere near Ganondorf's skill.” She would admit, though never out loud, that it was fun to test herself against someone clearly so powerful. It was something she could be proud of, standing her ground against him.

“Ganondorf is a man of war.” He wears his armor like a second skin. Carries every battle in every thick and winding scar. Zelda would never understand that. And so long as Casus is her future husband, she never would. “ And you held your own against him. Not many could say that.”

He is right, and she looks at him with a fond half-smile. She is beautiful under the canopy, soft against the hard, jagged shadows of the leaves over their heads. Ganondorf is a far away thought when he leans down to kiss her. It is the lightest brush of his lips against hers, hesitant and unpracticed. Zelda freezes, but does not pull away. Not until she hears the gentle brushing of leaves as their privacy quietly shatters.

It is Dall, standing out in the sun and looking at them with his unreadable eyes. Zelda steps back, out of Casus's reach and licks her lips. “Good morning, Chancellor Dall,” she says, her voice steady. 

Casus marvels at her, at how easily she is able to recover while he fusses with his doublet and smooths a curl back into place and hopes no one can see the color sitting high in his cheeks and creeping below his collar. Dall ignores him and bows at the waist when he addresses Zelda. 

“Good morning, Your Grace. I beg your pardon, but I must speak with Casus.”

“Of course. I should go prepare for my lessons. Auru will be arriving soon.” She squeezes Casus hand before she leaves them. 

When they are alone, Casus exhales sharply. Dall's cold eyes watch him over the long slant of his nose. “What's the matter with you, boy?” 

A question Casus does not want to answer. The beginnings of an interrogation, no doubt. It is the way this arrangement – and his life - works. Nothing is private. Not even a quiet moment under a shady tree in the garden. “Nothing,” he says at last, when he is sure his voice won't crack, “What did you need?”

Dall returns the favor, leaves Casus to wait and shift from foot to foot as he scrutinizes him, massive hands clasped behind his equally broad back and a sneer curling his lip. “For you to go into the market.” 

“But...”

“Casus, you will do as you're told. I will not ask again.”

There is little use arguing the matter now. Casus simply nods and slips by Dall to get on with the rest of his morning. “And Casus?”

“Yes, Father?”

“Learn to kiss a woman, if you intend to keep her, that is.”

Later that night, Zelda waits until the moon sits high before she slips from her bedroom into the empty hall, the book secure under her arm. The guards would be changing shifts and she could make her way to Ganondorf's chambers undetected. He opens for her after the first few quiet wraps of her knuckles against the door. The room is much warmer than the night before and she is grateful after the icy chill of the hallway. She offers him the book without a word, and lingers near the door. Ganondorf simply smiles and returns to his seat where he continues braiding the length of his hair. “You may come in, if you wish.”

“I should not stay long. The guards...”

“Rotate every few hours. If you mean to use stealth, wait a while.”

As she sits, she tries not to watch him, but can hardly look away when she can see all of him so closely, the strong line of his jaw with its thick fire-red beard, the muscles in his neck and arms. He seems solid, hard, impenetrable, like a wall. Yet, oddly human while he braids. Ganondorf meets her gaze and she blushes. “Forgive me.”

“No harm done, Zelda. In fact, I am glad you're here. I have something for you.” 

He crosses the room in a few short strides and returns with a weathered parchment. She unfurls it with delicate fingers and nearly drops it when she sees its contents. A map of Old Hyrule. The boundaries had long since shifted to show the Hylian's expansion. But still, she could recognize the old dialect and landmarks. And in the desert, she could see the territory clearly labeled GERUDO in old Hylian. There are other markings too, in a language she did not recognize. 

“Where did you get this?”

“There were some things salvaged. This map among them.”

Zelda looks down at the map again spread across her lap and is almost afraid to touch it, should it shatter in her hands. 

“It is yours, if you wish to have it. But you cannot show it to anyone else. I fear it would go the way of your history texts if you do,” Ganondorf says, easing into the seat next to her.

“I have no way of thanking you for this.”

“I need no thanks. It is a gift.” Ganondorf pauses, contemplative. He is looking at her and yet he is not. He seems a lifetime away. “You are the first to care about my people in a long time. It is almost ironic,” he says and he helps her roll the map back up and secure it with twine. His fingers brush hers while they work.

“How?”

For a moment, Ganondorf considers answering her. But thinks better of it and shakes his head. The map is secure, but his hands still linger with hers. “Forgive me, I misspoke.”

The silence that follows is an uneasy one. Their fingers still hover together until Zelda smiles and gently presses her palm against his. His hand swallows hers, his palm warm and soothing. Zelda does not want to let go. 

“I believe it is safe for you to leave, Zelda,” he says, but has not released her.

She nods, stands and he stands too, a giant compared to her. “I would like to see you again. If I could."

He chuckles and it cuts the tension. Zelda lets her shoulders drop. “I would not deny you. Your father, on the other hand...”

“Needn't know. He is fond of his secrets. So I see no harm in having one of my own.”

Ganondorf smiles, as if he knows something she does not and nods. “Learn the guard rotation and you may come to see me as often as you like. We do have a spar to finish.”

“A spar you would likely win, Ganondorf.”

“Then I will teach you how to win.”

Her eyes glitter with excitement. “You would do that?”

“I would. Unlike my recruits, you have a solid foundation. Easily built upon.” He leans down so that he could whisper into her ear. “Then you will bow to no one.”

She swallows. The kiss that follows is a quick and simple thing. Much shorter than the kiss she shared with Casus just hours earlier. Ganondorf is just as stunned as she is. Then he smiles. “You are bold. Good. You'll need it.” 

Zelda's mind races, her heart an uneasy and unsteady thrum in her chest. She is unsure how her feet carry her to the heavy door and she does not remember stepping through it. She barely registers Ganondorf calling for her from the threshold. “Come back tomorrow night, if you are able. Your lessons may begin then.”

“Of course. I will. Good night.”

“Good night.”

The door closes with a sense of finality and Zelda shudders against the sudden shift in the still air.


	5. Chapter 5

Ganondorf is never first to arrive when the council is summoned. Though he is never tardy, Ganondorf makes them wait. His fellows trickle in, some in groups, others one or two at a time. Some rush to have Harkinian's ear before the rest. Ganondorf found, quite some time ago in fact, that he simply did not care enough to be bothered. He had enemies, no doubt, but none of them were ever quite bold enough to plot against him. And there was nothing under the sun that Harkinian could give him, or that he would ever stoop low enough to ask for.

Harkinian never begins until they are all present and accounted for, so they must wait, tense and long minutes that tick on like lifetimes. When Ganondorf enters, the last of a long train of Hylian nobles, it is no grand affair. The doors swing open and clatter against the walls and he stands in the threshold, to ensure he is seen. He is always dressed simply, in his general's regalia, the Triforce stamped in yellow on the bright red cape on his shoulders. A hush quiets the room and all of them turn to look at him. Sometimes, he pretends he does not see them. Often he stares them all down before he takes his seat between Jassos and Lokam.

“So nice of you to join us, Ganondorf,” Dall says from Harkinian's seat. He and Ganondorf exchange glares before Dall continues. “As I'm sure you are all aware, Harkinian has taken ill. While he recovers, I will be conducting Hyrule's business on his behalf.”

The councilmen murmur, Jassos exchanges a glance with Lokam across Ganondorf's wide chest. And above it all, Ganondorf scoffs. The noise halts and all eyes are on him. Ganondorf watches Dall instead.

“Do you have something to say?” Dall asks. He seems uninterested in the answer while he folds a parchment – a letter, Ganondorf guesses.

“Was Harkinian's seat even cold before you thought to play the Prince, Dall?” Ganondorf looks large even in his tall leather chair. In comparison, Dall seems much more like a child, trying on his father's too big shoes.

Dall nods and sets the seal to dry after he presses his signet ring in the wax. “Be careful, General. That sounds dangerously close to insubordination. And insubordination is only a step away from treason.”

“I would be inclined to agree if you were actually king.”

The quiet intensifies, Dall's nostrils flaring for a brief, almost imperceptible moment. Then he laughs, a short bark that echoes against the vaulted ceiling. Everyone else remains still in their chairs, watching, waiting. For what, they would never admit to out loud. Ganondorf is the only one among them to move. He leans back into the plush leather, resting his cheek on his fist.

“You are quite right, General,” Dall says and he hands the letter to his man who is standing at his side. Ganondorf says nothing as the servant bows and makes a hasty retreat. When the doors shut behind him, Dall continues. “But while our good and gracious king is on his sickbed, I would not have Hyrule fall into chaos. So until he is well, I am his representative.” He pauses, considers what to say next, then levels Ganondorf with a bright smile. “And you were trained to follow orders, were you not, Ganondorf?”

What good humor remained, drains from Ganondorf's face in an instant. The fist his cheek rests against tightens, but he says nothing more.

Satisfied, Dall conducts the meeting in short order, then dismisses the men without a second glance at all in Ganondorf's direction. This victory, no matter how minor, is one he will celebrate when he is alone.

Ganondorf is first to leave with a snap of his cape, and when the doors slam behind him, the windows rattle.

* * *

_She is getting tan_. Casus notes as he steps into the sunlight shining across the armory courtyard. She wears trousers now too, stuffed into the tops of her boots and a shirt that he thinks might be too big, tucked into the waist of her trousers. But Zelda does not seem to notice or care. She is slick with sweat, loose strands of hair falling from her braid, hugging her cheeks and neck. She hardly notices that either, as she goes through the paces with ease, the recruit – soldier now, Casus supposes – stepping through them with her. When Casus moves in close, he listens to her as she instructs the eager boy.

“...And you follow through, like so.” When she demonstrates, she turns the boy, and comes face to face with Casus. She looks surprised for only a moment before her face brightens, a smile spreading easily across her lips. “Casus!”

He smiles in return and wraps an arm about her shoulders when she hugs him. “It feels like a lifetime has passed.”

“You've been busy.” He shrugs. Quite busy from the looks of it. He can feel muscle, where she had once been soft. But he makes no comment on it. Zelda beams, then bites her lip.

“I must apologize. I have not been able to see you as often as I like.”

“The wedding plans are moving forward. Soon you won't be rid of me.” He laughs gently at his jest and notices that Zelda does not.

Her smile falters, but rights itself when Casus looks down at her. There had been little time to discuss their wedding, now that Zelda had found other things to occupy her. She no longer spent her days in the library, reading old tomes by the dying light of a candle burned to the nub. Auru had her mornings and some of her afternoons if their debates and arguments ran long. After that, well, she would all but vanish into the aether. For the first few weeks, Casus thought to search for her, and he would check her usual haunts. She would never be there. Eventually, he had given up, and attended to their wedding plans alone. It did not occur to him to ever check the armory for her. He'd thought swordplay little more than a passing fancy. Something to occupy her between her lessons and her leisure time with him. Not this – whatever this is - that would monopolize her day and night. Perhaps he had been wrong, about a great many things.

He misses her when she pulls herself out of his embrace to follow the soldiers. The blacksmith has since joined them, showing off the new blades he'd spent the night smithing for them. Zelda is as excited by them as the soldiers.

With his mind made up, Casus slips up behind her, touching her back gently, he helps himself to a sword and tests the weight. “A fine sword, Benard,” he says and turns it over in his hand. Zelda spares him a glance before admiring the swords again. The crowd spreads itself out when Casus takes a step back and points it at Zelda's back. “Would you care for a spar, milady?”

Silence is his answer for a long moment. Then she replies: “Casus, please, you don't want to do this.” She does not turn.

“Oh but I do.”

She does turn at that, but with no sword in her hand, and he could swear he sees a critical gleam in her eye. Zelda shakes her head. “No, Casus.”

“Come now, Zelda, what is a spar between lovers, hm? You would with Ganondorf.”

Her cheeks turn the faintest shade of pink but she draws her sword. Not a new blade Benard has brought to the yard, but an old one from an old scabbard. The blade is nicked. “This is what you wanted, is it not? Your move.”

Casus eyes her sword for a moment, then slides into his stance. He'd been trained well. He had no reason to worry.

When they clash, it does not take Zelda long to gain the upper hand. She is much faster than when Casus last saw her fence, moving so quickly he hardly knows she is there. Casus tries – valiantly too – to drive her back, but only earns himself a bruise to nurse later. He does not notice when she slices his tunic and is bewildered when she catches his sword and knocks it from his hand. Zelda points the tip of her blade at his throat, the look on her face – Casus prays he would never see it again.

“Surrender. I've won,” she says, coldly and stoops down to pick up Casus's discarded sword.

“What's happened to you, Zelda?”

He could hear the chuckle, see her shoulders tense and relax. She returns the sword to Benard and wipes the sweat from her brow. “Nothing. I am still your Zelda.”

Casus touches the dangling fabric, feels the ripped edges of it and shakes his head. “No. I don't believe you are.”

Zelda does not have to turn around to know that Casus is gone. Perhaps it had been too much, winning against him so quickly. She hadn't intended to hurt him, but it had been what he'd asked for. So after a moment of debate, she follows and finds him fumbling with the door to his apartment.

“Casus...”

The door opens and he nearly slams it in her face. But she catches it and smashes her fingers between the door and the frame. When she frees her hand, she nurses her injured finger. Casus glances at her over his shoulder. “Did you need something, Your Grace?”

“I didn't want to spar with you,” she says.

He'd only coaxed her into a spar to spend time with her. She'd been so enthralled during her spar with Ganondorf. Casus only wanted a little piece of that energy for himself. Maybe he'd gone about it the wrong way. “Where did you learn to fight like that?” He asks and thinks that's an innocent enough question.

“Like what?”

“Like...a monster.”

Zelda frowns. “He is not a monster!” It is too late to take the words back, but that does not stop her from clapping a hand across her mouth.

Casus turns to look at her, brow furrowing. When it dawns on him just who she means, he drops his brows and sets his lips in a thin line across his face. “ _Ganondorf_? He is the one who has taken over your life?”

“Ganondorf has been teaching me to fence. Nothing more.”

He scoffs, shakes his head with his hands on his hips. He hadn't thought Ganondorf a threat. A minor annoyance, to be sure. Not someone to be taken seriously. Dall talks incessantly of the man, calls him a thorn in his side. But this. This is too much. Zelda is the one good thing in his life. He refuses to lose her to Ganondorf. “I trust you, Zelda. It is that...man I do not trust.”

“You go too far,” Zelda whispers as sharp as a razor's edge. “If you intend to accuse Ganondorf of impropriety, then you ought to level it against me as well.”

“Why would I? You--”

“I am not a child, ” she says, “I have chosen to do this. So if you wish to claim Ganondorf is improper for teaching me to fence, then I am just as guilty.”

Casus, unsure of what to say, examines the tear in his tunic. Zelda places a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“I am sorry for neglecting you. But I will not apologize for picking the sword.” Nor her friendship with Ganondorf. But that she kept to herself.

“No. I would not expect you to.”

“Why don't you come tonight? To the armory. I do want you involved in my life and I think it would be good for you to see.”

“Ganondorf will not mind?” He asks and tugs at the torn fabric.

“No. But, I must have your silence on this. Father would make me stop if he knew and I do not want to stop. Not when there's so much more still to learn.”

“Very well. Tonight then.” Casus would go, but whether he holds true to his promise would depend entirely on what he saw tonight.

Later that night, Casus waits for Zelda outside of his apartment. The minutes tick away into hours until at last he ventures into the armory courtyard alone. There he finds Zelda and Ganondorf both, in the middle of the yard, swords shrieking together under the high half moon. Ganondorf is fast for a man his size, but Zelda is good and even better at holding her own against him. He is shouting, barking orders at her as if she were a common foot soldier. But Zelda follows his orders as quickly as they are given and when they meet, it is as natural as the moon drawing out the tide. 

When she sees Casus sitting on the steps, watching her enthralled, she smiles. Her concentration shifts for only a moment, but it is a moment too long. Ganondorf strikes her and sends her spiraling into the grass. “You were not paying attention, Zelda. What have I told you about distractions?”

She gets to her knees and breathes deep to ease the ache in her ribs. “They can kill you.”

“Thank your Goddesses I was not trying to kill you then, hm?” Ganondorf catches sight of Casus as he rushes to Zelda's side. He points his great black blade at the boy, tilts his chin up with it. “What are you doing here, boy?”

“Ganondorf, please,” Zelda says and gently shakes Casus off so she can get to her feet. “I invited him to observe.”

“His presence nearly killed you.”

“My mistake. Not his.”

He eyes Casus for an uncomfortable moment before he replies, “You cannot afford such blunders in a real fight, Princess. You would do well to remember that. Now pick up your sword. We shall continue. And you--” Ganondorf points his blade at Casus again, “Out of my yard.”

With the yard clear, the duo resume, striking fast and hard. They are difficult to see in the dark, save for the sparks their swords create when they meet. With his back to Casus, he asks her when he strikes and she parries. “I assume this means I will not see you tonight.”

They turn again, this time Zelda striking when she sees a hole in Ganondorf's defense, “No, I will be there.” She did not want Casus to feel neglected, but she would not allow him to infringe on every aspect of her life. Until they were united in marriage, it was still very much her own to live.

“I will escort him back to his apartment,” she whispers, when the lesson is done and they prepare to part company. “Expect me within the hour.”

* * *

Ganondorf waits and Zelda is as prompt as always. He smiles at her and steps out of the way to let her in. Accustomed to his space, Zelda navigates the apartment easily and takes her usual seat by the fire. The tea is always hot and ready for her. She sips gratefully. “What a long day.”

“I heard about your spar earlier today. With the boy.”

“Oh,” she says and sets the cup aside, “He insisted.”

“Leave him to me if he insists again.”

She thinks he is jesting and laughs lightly. “I would rather not explain Casus’s broken arm to the Chancellor,” she replies and sucks gently at the cut across her finger. It is a deep purple, the skin unsightly and swollen around the slice in her skin. Her other knuckles, though not cut, were bruised as well.

“What happened to you?” Ganondorf asks and takes her hand in his own to examine the cut.

“Shut up in a door. It’s really not as bad as it looks. Just a little sore.”

“And you fenced with an injury like that?”

“I am not made of glass, Ganondorf. I think I fared quite well.”

“Until that boy showed up. Then you made amateur mistakes.” 

He watches her bristle at his words over the lip of his cup. Ganondorf has learned a great deal about the Princess over the few months they’d spent together. She is brash, but young so that is not so surprising. Her eagerness to learn is not so surprising either, as she is Nayru’s vessel of wisdom. He has seen her piece glow bright in her hand like a sun in miniature. And she does not take slights lightly. Perhaps things would have ended differently for him if--

He turns at the sound of scraping, the quiet shrill of metal as a sword is pulled from its scabbard. “I was not in poor form tonight,” she says, “And I will prove it.”

Ganondorf can’t help but laugh, still he sets his cup aside and clears a space for them in the middle of his apartment. Then he draws his sword and takes center stage with her. “What was the score?”

“We are tied. Two strikes each.”

“So be it. Defend yourself, Princess.” He lunges, his sword arcing low, the blow aiming for her stomach.

She parries him, knocking his sword off its mark and swings hard with her injured hand. He blocks her and shoves her back, using the distance between them form his next plan of attack. Their swords spark and clatter as they strike and parry across the empty space in the middle of the room. This carries on for some time, exhaustion creeping into their arms and legs. “Shall we call a draw then,” he asks and pins her sword to the floor with his own. 

She grins and yanks at her blade. “Giving up already, General?”

“Hardly,” he says and when he raises his sword to strike, he feels the blunt edge of her blade tapping his middle. 

Zelda smiles, triumphant. “I win.”

Stunned, Ganondorf’s sword hovers above him before it clatters to the floor, him along with it. He laughs while he lays on his back. “So you have, Princess, and proven your point. You were not in poor form.”

She sinks beside him and goes easily into his arms when he offers them to her. Settling against him is a simple thing; she’s learned his lines and curves and where she fits against them. They lay like this for a moment before Zelda sits up and rests her chin on his chest. “The guards will not rotate again until dawn.”

“They will certainly see you if you try to make your way back now.”

“Then I suppose I ought to stay.”

“I suppose so.”

Zelda traces idle patterns into his robe, drawing her lip up between her teeth. Ganondorf watches her finger then looks at her. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I just...Casus thinks you’ve been improper. With me.”

He chuckles and shakes his head. “Of course he does.”

“I tried to tell him that there is nothing between us, but I don’t think he believes me.”

Ganondorf lifts her roving finger and brings it to his lips. “I don’t believe you either.” 

There is grace in everything Zelda does, even when she wields her sword, covered in sweat and grime. In this it is no different. Inexperience did not diminish how artfully she kisses him. It is simple and not all at once and hardly resembles the quick, artless peck she gave him only months before. Ganondorf himself kisses her like he means to devour her, slipping her arm around his neck and pressing her against him. He touches the closed seam of her lips with his tongue but Zelda pushes back, a hand across her lips while color blooms high in her cheeks. 

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting…”

Ganondorf smiles, cups her cheek to reassure her. Zelda smiles, puts her hand on top of his and leans into his touch. “He said you were a monster,” she whispers and rests her forehead against his. 

“Do you think I am a monster?”

“No.” She shakes her head and looks him in his eyes. “Never.” No one who touches her as if she were Hylia herself could ever be a monster. 

“Then I am not.”

Zelda shuts her eyes, as if making up her mind, then leans in to kiss him again. Ganondorf greets her eagerly, drawing her in as close as he dares and when he leans back onto the rug, she follows him without question or regrets. Neither of them waste time with careful leaning over the brink. Instead, they leap from the edge, with their fingers laced and with their eyes closed and pray that the fall would be worth it. 

There is no going back now. It is muddled, but somewhere Zelda knows this. Were she asked, she would say she did not want to go back. Gathering her courage, she drapes her leg over him, straddles him and lets him take in the sight of her where she sits. He looks tense and follows the curves of her neck and chest with his eyes. His fingers trace the same path until the find the laces of her trousers. Loosening them, he tugs her shirt free. 

She lets him pull it away and hopes her blush hasn’t crept below the collar. She wears nothing underneath and worries at what he will find there. She worries her training has made her too hard, but Ganondorf’s fingers linger over the new muscle, traces them gently as if he wants to learn every inch of her. He could, if he wants it. She would allow him because it feels like they have all the time in the world.

Ganondorf touches her collarbone and down her shoulders and back again, so achingly close and never close enough. Zelda’s breath sticks in her throat, when he finally palms her breasts. Every twist and pinch of her nipples is as gentle as a psalm. Her eyes are shut and she wills them open so she can see him, so she can touch him too. She unties the belt at his waist and pushes it aside, sliding her hand along where the fabric overlaps. Up, up, up. It falls open and he is nearly bare before her. Hundreds of times before he would shed his doublet when they sparred, but she’d never dare to touch him. Her fingers tremble when she touches the first raised scar, a nick across his collarbone. Another she finds and kisses with her fingers just over his left breast. She watches Ganondorf curiously, as he stills under her cool hands. His eyes hood heavily so she watches instead the heavy heave of his chest, the tip of his tongue wetting his lips. Zelda follows this map, across his chest and down his belly, but stops shy of the glowing, hard lump of flesh. It is an ugly fold of skin twisted into unnatural knots to seal the wound underneath. Still it glows, a silver shine spilling out like a star, burning as brightly as a candle. “Does it hurt?” she asks.

He opens his eyes and they burn into her own. “No.”

It is apart of him, and so Zelda touches it. It is hot under her hand, like a fever and quickly she moves on, inching her fingers down. She slides back to accommodate her exploration and but jolts when she feels his arousal pressing into her. “Oh,” she whispers and she turns crimson. She is thankful that he does not laugh at her surprise, so she readjusts herself and presses against him with a gentle rock of her hips. Ganondorf inhales and Zelda watches with delight in her eyes as his head drops back to the rug. She tries again and again until he draws her down to him and kisses her until her lips are red. “You’re driving me mad,” he whispers and tugs at her trousers. She wiggles herself out of them and kicks them aside. Ganondorf sees her now - all of her - and she smiles when he can’t look away at all.

Zelda is eager, her apprehension giving way to the desire sitting hot in her belly like coals. She pushes at his robes, pulls and tugs until it pools at his ankles and then she draws herself up again to kiss his laughing mouth. Their tongues meet, her breasts pressing into his chest, skin at last, _at last_ caressing skin. She lets her fingers wander, feeling the shape of him under the palm of her hand. Ganondorf groans in her ear and it’s like lightning down her spine. She shifts to alleviate the desire, the need, the _hunger_ clawing at her. “I-I want,” she says but he stills her with his hands on her hips.

“Patience, Zelda. I will give you exactly what you want.” 

He sits up, settling her into his lap, and pressing warm wet kisses along her jaw and down her neck. She can feel it now, like the dull thrum of a heartbeat, a delicious ache between her legs with every swipe of his tongue. Zelda tilts her head back, because she wants more, craves it like air. Ganondorf’s pace is an agonizing one, slow and steady while he tastes her, drinks deep of her, savors her. His hands, still at her hips, slide down her thighs, stops to cup her damp folds. He teases her with slow, gentle strokes of his fingers, until he thinks Zelda might come apart in his arms. 

“Please,” she whispers, voice too raw to be recognizable, “Please, I need--”

Ganondorf smiles, lets his hands follows the curve of her spine. He lets her set the pace, as he eases her up and she sinks back down again, her name hissed against her jaw. Zelda holds tight, burying the blunt edges of her nails into his shoulders, rolls her hips against his, uncertain and slow. Ganondorf sets his hands on her hip again, presses his fingers there and helps her set the rhythm. And she is lost. Lost in the fog of her heady desire, lost in the fold of Ganondorf’s arms. She can feel the flick of his tongue over her nipple, catches it between his teeth to tug and Zelda thinks this will surely be the death of her. It is too much and not enough all at once.

Ganondorf kisses her as she rocks down again and swallows up her cries until they must part to breathe. Soon it did not matter who heard them, if anyone did at all. Because the ecstasy is building, higher and higher like a crescendo, like a bowstring pulled taut until it crashes down again. Zelda buckles under the weight of it, her cries muffled against the thump of his heart in his throat and it beats so fast under her lips, Zelda thinks it might burst. Perhaps it did, Zelda could not say, because it is forgotten.

She slumps in his arms, spent but satisfied. It is Ganondorf who moves first, untangling himself from her and standing on unsteady feet. He helps her stand and they stumble to his bed and collapse together side by side. Zelda goes easily into his arms when he offers them to her and fits herself against those familiar curves. She sleeps deep and dreamless and prays that dawn is delayed.


	6. Chapter 6

It is the memories that stir her. 

It's Ganondorf's lips pressing into her, whispering encouragement into her neck. It's his wide hands spread across her back, cradling her while she rides him into oblivion. It's in the folding of her body neatly into his, as if she has always belonged there. It is a heady thing and drags her into a bleary sort of awareness. She blinks, tries to will clarity in her mind as she pushes up to orient herself. The bed is not her own – of course it is not – and she is very much alone in it. The room is quiet, empty. All evidence that she'd been there at all is gone, furniture righted and the room immaculate, save for her clothes that lay folded across a chair. For a brief moment, Zelda smiles and sinks back into the pillows. Last night was a good night.

The sun shines brightly, warm through the window on her cheeks, and panic surges hot in her gut, clearing away the last of the cobwebs. The guards were surely on their way to arrest him – to arrest them both! And Ganondorf is no where to be found. 

“Ganondorf?” she calls into the emptiness and crawls from the bed to tug her trousers on. In her haste, she is clumsy and tugs uselessly at the laces. “Ganondorf?” she says again and is relieved when he reveals himself, oiling his hair from the roots to the ends. 

“Good morning.”

'Good morning' he says, while their judge and jury march to seal their fates. 'Good morning' he says, while she can see the headsman's ax pressing against their necks. 

“Good morning,” she replies, because she has not forgotten her manners, even while she panics. “Are you always so calm when your life hangs by threads?”

He chuckles, swatting her hands away so he could knot her trouser laces for her with deft fingers, “Panicking serves no one. Me, least of all.” He tugs the laces for good measure, then places a kiss on Zelda's forehead. “If you hurry, you may catch the guards during their rotation.”

He is right, she thinks, while she gathers the rest of her things. It could not be so terribly late. The guards haven't stormed the apartment. Perhaps she still had time, after all. She must believe this, for the sake of her fraying nerves. “If you truly think so,” she says, while she laces her boots with calmer hands, “But I think it is wise we not tempt the Goddesses.” At least for a little while. She returns to him, fits herself up against his side again and smiles up at him. 

“So is this goodbye then?”

“For now.”

“As you wish,” he says and drapes an arm around her waist, to draw her closer, “Then I would leave you with this. To hasten your return.”

There is no hesitation in her this time. She kisses him with a practiced kind of ease. Like she knows the shape of his mouth, and the slant of it against her own. It is familiar to her now and she relishes in it. When they part, Zelda's smile still sits firmly in place. “I will return to you. As quickly as possible.”

Ganondorf nods and sits down to finish his hair. “Before you go, a reminder,” he says, voice pleasant, but the warning like a sharp undercurrent, “I expect you to keep to your lessons. My absence will be no excuse.”

She nods, enthusiasm in every inch of the smile on her face. Of course she would keep to her lessons. Nothing short of prying her sword from her hand would ever keep her from training. 

Zelda takes her time as she makes her way back, careful to keep herself out of sight as the castle stirs in the peaceful morning light. There are no guards, save but one patrolling along the corridor to her chambers. She waits, pressing herself against the a tall stone column. The soldier patrols at his leisure, walking the length of the corridor back and forth until she thinks he will never leave. Minutes tick on like hours until he at last breezes by her. Zelda creeps out of her hiding place, padding softly until she slips into her room. She finds herself delightfully relieved when she is safe behind the door.

Her maid arrives only moments after Zelda manages to arrange herself in her bed. She curtsies to the Princess and Zelda must suppress a smug smile. “I've come to prepare your bath, milady. If you're ready.”

Zelda strips and bathes at her leisure, her maid behind her sponging her back gently. She takes her time slipping into her gown when she is done. “Tell Auru I will be late this morning,” Zelda says, while the girl laces her bodice. “I'm going to see my father.”

 

***

For two days, Harkinian's chambers stank of sickness. The old man lay in his bed, curled into himself while whatever this illness was ran its course. The physician, a gnarled root of a man, shoulders pressing in against his ears from years of pouring over medical texts and patients, stayed at Dall's insistence. He worried at the King's bedside, and worked his craft as best he could. On the fourth day, Harkinian's color returned. On the fifth day, and much to the doctor's delight, Harkinian asked for a breakfast more solid than soup with waterlogged vegetables. It is promising to see the King find the strength to sit up and take the carefully prepared breakfast that Casus delivers with a smile.

The boy is a kind one, the physician thinks while Casus sits by Harkinian's bed side. They laugh as though they are family already and it is easy for the doctor to let the king be, at least for a time. So he excuses himself and steps into the hallway. For a moment, the doctor sees no one and he takes the time to stretch and finally shed his stress. Still, it is no surprise when Dall appears – seemingly from nowhere. “How is he?”

“Much better today, thankfully,” he replies and takes the spectacles from his nose, “Slowly, but he is recovering.”

Dall smiles and puts a hand on the doctor's shoulder, “Good. When I saw him yesterday, he seemed much stronger. I was worried for him. This illness set upon him so quickly.”

The old man nods, his bright white tufts of hair draping over his ears like a curtain worn shear. “I'm still not sure what made him ill.” He looks up at Dall with a frown and a wrinkle in his brow. “I don't like it, Chancellor. It's all very strange. I don't like it one bit.”

Dall squeezes the man's shoulder, to reassure him. And to quiet him. He sees Zelda long before the old doctor does, dressed in her finery as she rounds the corner and stops. 

“What's strange?”she asks and looks as though she expects an answer. A true answer. Not fluff. 

“Harkinian's illness,” Dall says, the concern in his voice measured against the doctor's discomfort. He feels the tension in the doctor's drawn up shoulder and squeezes again. A warning.

Zelda frowns. “Has he gotten worse?”

“Not at all, your grace. In fact, he is with Casus, eating his breakfast now.” Dall nods toward the door with his smile, warm as ever. Zelda does not budge or return his smile. 

“If he is better, then why is his illness strange? Doctor?” she asks. Dall would answer for him, if given the chance. Zelda is determined not to give him that chance.

The doctor hesitates and looks at Dall for support. The hand on his shoulder feels heavy, like lead and the old man seems to shrink beneath it. He swallows before he answers. “I don't know what made him sick, Your Highness,” he says slowly, carefully. 

Zelda hides her confusion behind apathy. “It is not a food borne allergen, then?”

The doctor almost answers, but Dall holds his tongue. “Probably so, Princess. He did eat a strange Zora dish.”

“Was the fish undercooked?”

“Possibly,” the doctor begins, “But I don't think...”

“It doesn't matter.” Dall squeezes again and the doctor is silent. Zelda notes it but says nothing. “Harkinian is getting well. He would want to see you certainly, Princess. You may speak to the doctor afterward.”

She watches their retreat with a frown, slight around the corners of her mouth. It never felt imperative that she check on her father's well being. At least not before this exchange. She finds Casus on his feet by her father's bed, tugging at the hem of his tunic. 

“Your Majesty, I beg you to reconsider. I would never...” 

“Leave it, Casus. I will handle this.” Harkinian shifts where he sits, pillows piled to support him. He brightens when he sees his daughter standing just beyond the door's threshold. “Zelda! Come in, come in, my dear.”

Casus looks pale, his fingers twisting his tunic so tight, he would've torn the fabric if he were a stronger person. He cannot bring himself to look at Zelda at all when he passes her by. Only mumbles a good morning before he hastily shuts the door behind him. Harkinian waves his daughter to him. “Come sit with me.”

Zelda forgets Dall and Casus for the moment and settles next to her father on his bed. She looks him over once, then twice and is satisfied. He is getting better. Dall is not wrong about that much. “How are your wedding plans?”

Zelda pauses, bites her lip. It'd been quite some time since she'd even bothered to consult with the planners. She had no idea. “Fine,” she says at last and prays that it is true.

Harkinian seems pleased and Zelda exhales a quiet, relieved breath. “That is good to hear,” he replies.

Still, there is no sense of finality. It is almost like a beginning to something deeper. Zelda shifts uncomfortably where she sits. 

“I'm surprised you have the time,” he says with a chuckle, “Are you not spending all of your time in the armory now? Learning the sword?” 

Her throat twists itself in a knot and sits firmly there. Utter betrayal must feel like strangling because it is nothing she can swallow. It amazes her that she is still so calm. “Father, I can explain,” she says and is not surprised at the strain in her voice. She is surprised to have a voice at all. 

“You needn't bother, Zelda,” Harkinian says, “I have never known you to be so secretive. Is this Ganondorf's doing?”

She shakes her head. “No. I bear the blame.”

“If you think I believe Ganondorf to be the innocent party--”

“Father, please. Ganondorf only did what I asked of him. If you condemn him, you condemn us both.”

She is hopeful when he considers this, as hopeful as she could be considering. Could this even be salvaged? Ganondorf would know before the day's end and would likely cut her off completely. The knot in her throat tightens and Zelda struggles to push it down. Losing his friendship or...whatever it is they'd become would be as good as cutting out her heart. She hates that it pains her so.

“Leave him be, my love. You are engaged, the future queen of Hyrule. There is much to keep you occupied.”

She nods, grateful. “Of course.” Zelda stands, too hastily she thinks, and hides behind her apathy. “I should leave you to your rest. I only meant to check on you.” Not have her world unravel at the seams. She drops a kiss on his cheek and retreats.

Harkinian sinks back into his pillows, and watches her go. It is for her own good he thinks, then he rolls over and hopes sleep will come easily.

***

The door shuts behind her with a quiet click, but to Zelda it rattles in her bones. Echoes in her skull like a scream. She'd been too quick to trust. Tricked by sentiments and old friendships. For all her wisdom, she'd never felt more foolish.

“Zelda.” 

She stiffens at his voice. It is like a dagger in her gut. When she sees him, it is a feat that she can look at him. But he will not look at her, his boot scuffing gently on the carpet, like a scolded child. “I'm sorry.”

“Don't. It is done.” 

She can see the pinch in his brow, how he swallows, and the shudder in his shoulders. He nods. Of course. His sorrys and regrets would not change what is done. “I didn't tell him.”

“Someone did.” 

“My father.”

“And who told _him_?” she demands, incredulous.

Zelda tightens her jaw, teeth gritting when he does not answer her. The words are at the tip of her tongue, ready to tear into him as deftly as any blade. But she swallows them down, past the knot that still sits in her throat. When he finally dares himself to look at her, she shakes her head and pushes beyond him. “Just leave me alone,” she says quietly.

Perhaps she would forgive him and even learn to trust him again. But it would take time. Time she is not sure she is ready to give him just yet. For now, it is best for them both if she does not look at him.


	7. Chapter 7

For three days Zelda keeps her distance. They are tedious and long without her general's company, but Harkinian is not wrong. There is still plenty to occupy her. She studies with Auru in the morning and lets her lessons run well into the afternoon, then leaves him to tend to the wedding. It is strange to her how little she thinks of Casus while she decides her seating arrangements and chooses her flowers. She sees even less of him throughout the rest of her day, but that is not so strange. He hardly strays from Dall's heels now, looking more like a lost child than a man set to inherit the lives of hundreds. But that seems to be just as Dall likes it. The leash was short; it must strangle now. Still, Zelda cannot bring herself to forgive him. She can't, not with betrayal still a fresh wound in her heart. Casus' loyalty to his father would always outweigh whatever he felt for her. It is a bitter pill to swallow.

There is solace in her father's recovery. His color returns and with it his appetite and hearty laughter. They share their meals and pretend that there are no fractures in their relationship. Zelda sees them plainly, cracks spidering up a once solid foundation. But it is better to pretend, she thinks, because he is still getting well. There would be time to mend things.

He leaves her with a kiss to her forehead and pat on her hand, as if she were still ten years old and attends to his duties. His load is light, at the doctor's recommendation, and he stops his work at midday. Chancellor Dall always resumes where Harkinian leaves off. 

This how she finds him, arguing with the council. Ganondorf notices her first, when the door opens and she slips inside the room. He sits at the edge of his plush chair, elbows on the table and fingers laced together. Their gazes meet and linger until Dall sees her too. 

“Gentlemen, enough. We have a guest,” Dall says and waits for silence. He smiles at Zelda, but there is nothing genuine about it. “Your Grace, to what do we owe this pleasure?”

Under their noble scrutiny, Zelda stands tall, thinks this is no different than wielding a blade and she is not so bad at that. “I think you have left me out of these proceedings long enough, Chancellor.”

From where he sits, Ganondorf smiles. Dall does not. “I beg your pardon?”

“I will be queen. In my father's absence, I think I ought to be aware of what is happening.”

Dall frowns before he schools his face into neutrality. “Princess, no one appreciates your enthusiasm for Hyrule's politics more than I. But now is not the best of times.”

“When will it be the best time?” She rarely felt so out of touch with the kingdom at large. There was plenty Harkinian did not share with her, but still managed to include her when he could. Dall is not so generous. It needed correction.

“When we are not in the middle of a discussion, perhaps?”

“Let the Princess remain.” The attention shifts and Ganondorf sits back in his chair, arms folded. “A fresh perspective might move this, what did you call it, Dall? A discussion? In a more favorable direction.”

A few of the others murmurs their agreement as Dall finally concedes and gestures to an empty chair. His empty chair. 

“Very well. Please sit, Zelda.”

“You would station yourself above our Queen, Dall?” Ganondorf asks with a disapproving click of his tongue.

“And you disrupt our meeting with your pettiness, General. Besides, she is not queen yet.” He realizes too late what he has said and looks at Zelda to gauge her. If she is upset, he cannot say.

“Still, she has more authority than you. Imagine, the King's own child, sitting at your right hand like a commoner.”

The silence that follows chills the air. Zelda wants to protest, that this posturing isn't necessary. But Dall stands, the documents laying out neatly scattering with the breeze. When he sits again, he plops down. It is easy to mistake him for petulant. The King's chair, now empty, feels daunting. When Zelda sits in it, she sinks into the plush leather. This is not what she expected when she walked into the room. But, she would admit it is not so bad. She looks at Ganondorf again and he offers her a satisfied smile.

“Highness,” Dall says, voice tight, “We were discussing our trade agreement with Labrynna. Our sister nation objects to the new tariff we've levied against their imports.”

“Why was the tax raised in the first place?” She asks and leans in to study the documents. Trade agreements and alliances. She sees her father's signature and his seal scratched into the parchment, thinks about what her own might look like in its place.

“Most Labrynnian goods can only be used by the other races. It is a considerable expense to deliver them. Death Mountain is treacherous and the road to Zora's Domain equally so. I think it's a fair compensation.”

“If that's the case, then why isn't there an equitable distribution of the cost?”

“Because these goods must pass through our borders. We deliver them at our own expense. It is only sensible to raise the tax on goods that have diminished in value at any rate.”

Zelda almost feels scolded, as if Dall must correct fumbling child. So Zelda sits up straighter, tries to look a queen in her father's oversized chair.

“No, Dall. It isn't. The Labrynnians pay a tax to bring their goods into Hyrule. The Zoras and the Gorons would pay another to take them into their own territories. If we allow them caravans, we would eliminate the need to deliver these goods at all.”

“And with it, this new tax you propose. We can scarcely afford to compensate our workers as it is. That is why the rise in tax occurred.” He sighs, exasperated. 

She straightens in her seat and regards Dall over the slant of her nose, often like he does with her. “You misunderstand me, Chancellor. If the imports are first brought to us, they must be handled by our workers, before the export can happen. They must be unloaded and sorted. For this the Zoras and Gorons will compensate us.”

“A reasonable solution, I think,” Ganondorf says and nods at the Princess when she looks at him. 

Dall clears his throat. “Funny that you would agree, General. Since you have been quiet this entire meeting.” Except to support Zelda. 

“My opinion was never asked, Dall. Had you, I would have raised this very solution.”

“As would I,” Another says, but looks away when Dall glares.

Ganondorf does not shrink down. He never does. “You mean to ring every rupee that you can from the Labrynnians. Then have the audacity to flaunt our strength like some sort of tyrant when they object. You risk alliances and you will not use me or my men as your pawns.” He stands, despite not having the leave to do so. It is satisfying that Dall must crane his neck to look up at him. 

“The Princess' suggestions are sound. Take it before Harkinian. Be honest, this time.” 

Ganondorf leaves them without another word and when the door clicks shut behind him, the other councilmen exchange glances and worried whispers. Dall is silent, back pressed against his chair, massive arms folded over his chest. When at last he remembers the others remain, he stands abruptly. “This meeting is adjourned,” he says and leaves without sparing anyone a glance.

The councilmen leave in groups and pairs, until Zelda is the only one who remains. She feels small in her father's place. Unwanted. Unqualified. She looks up when the door opens. “Hello, General.”

“I wondered when you would come here.”

She smiles and clasps her fingers together tightly, almost as if she is unsure of what to do with them. “I'd only meant to observe. I didn't mean to interrupt.”

Ganondorf scoffs. “You did not. The meeting was going nowhere. We would still be arguing were it not for you.”

“Did you really need me? You stand up to Dall just fine yourself.”

“The men do not like me, Dall especially. But they like you and so do I.”

She is silent for a moment, then looks up at him with an amused smile. “You made him angry, you know.”

“Good. Dall has lorded his superiority over us long enough. It is high time someone reminded him of his place.”

She stands, pushing up from the table and crossing the room to Ganondorf. He drops his arms to his sides and smiles at the familiar weight of her hand in his. “I want to forget about Dall. I've missed you.”

There is no hesitation in the hand he uses to cup her cheek, running his thumb along the smooth line of her face. “As I've missed you.”

She closes her eyes against the warmth of his palm, at the tender way he touches her and she remembers what it is like to be so desired. It aches deeply in her. When she opens her eyes, she smiles, turning to kiss his palm. “I will see you tonight.”

“As you wish,” he whispers, leaning in, “But do not leave me unsatisfied now, Princess.” 

She could kiss him easily with how close he stands. Instead, she meets him in the middle and grazes her lips along his neck. She can see him swallow from there. When she pulls back, she grins. “How is that, General?”

“Not enough.” He straightens, eying the long, old table behind her. The council argues a great many things over this table. Documents are shoved back and forth, passed around for signatures and approvals. It is just as important to Hyrule's continued existence than any person that sat around it. But right now, Ganondorf thinks, it is the only solid surface that can support him and her both. He backs her to a corner, hands on her hips, hoisting her up. 

“We shouldn't,” she says, but cannot remember why they shouldn't. His lips and teeth and tongue are at her neck, against her pulse and throat while her hands fist into the softness of his robe.

“Why not?” He asks and kisses her where she swallows, “There is no one else here. Just you and me.” He kisses her cheek where color blooms, rucking her skirts up around her hips and for once is thankful she wears her dresses again.

She laughs, gentle as a breeze. “And if someone should return?” Her hands find their way down his front, to the intricate ties that hold his tunic together. It's tempting, because Ganondorf is right. They are alone and it has been too long. Zelda has missed him sorely. He kisses her, drags her to the table' s edge so her legs can hook around his waist.

“Then they will learn to knock.”

Zelda grins as their mouths meet and is still smiling when they part. “As tempting as it is, we shouldn't.”

Ganondorf steps back, smoothing her skirts back down and tucking her stray hairs back into place. There, presentable again. He takes her hand to help her down and they walk with their fingers linked. Zelda stops him shy of the door. “Tonight. I promise.”

“I will hold you to your word, Princess.”

They part and leave the room in opposite directions, a respectable distance between them. Ganondorf passes Dall in the long hallway. He sneers, but does not stop, rounding a corner and disappearing. Dall holds where he is, until Ganondorf is gone. Ahead of him, he can see the wisp of blonde, in a braid down her back. Soon, she's gone too. Dall glances back at nothing before he considers the long stretch of hallway ahead. 

There isn't much time to linger, an appointment looming. But it does not stop his smile. Nothing does.


	8. Chapter 8

The servant finds him in the morning. Ganondorf sees her long before she begins cutting across the yard, weaving between the legs of his soldiers. She's a little human girl, no more than five or six, with pretty red curls wrangled into braids on either side of her head. Her skin is rich and warm brown under the early morning sun. For a painful moment, Ganondorf thinks of the desert. 

She skids to a stop in front of him, golden eyes trailing up his long torso. She takes a wary step back, but her eyes linger on his beard, fiery like her hair and that makes her smile. He doesn't seem so imposing now. Not when he is just like her. She offers him the letter that's tight in her little fist. “It's from the King's desk.” He could almost hear the accent in her voice and familiarity strikes him again. 

He takes the parchment but doesn't read it. It's urgent, but, Harkinian can wait a few minutes more. Instead, he peers down at the girl then takes a knee in front of her. She still must look up to see him. “What's your name?”

“Nekela.”

“A lovely name. Now I can thank you properly, Nekela.” He presses a blue rupee into her palm.

This pleases her and she skips off, back into the castle. Ganondorf looks at his letter only when she is finally out of sight.

My office. Ten o'clock.

No signature follows, but it is stamped with Harkinian's seal. He crumples the parchment and does not think of it again until after he dismisses his men for their afternoon meal. It is nearly noon by then. He strides through the hallway and enters Harkinian's office without a knock or announcing his presence. He is expected, after all. 

“You're late.” 

“I am not at your beck and call.” He tosses the wrinkled summons onto the desk. “Why did you send the girl?”

When Dall turns, he is smiling. He looks down at the letter then up at Ganondorf again. “I had to ensure you would come, General. I was not so foolish to think you'd believe Harkinian sent for you.” He picks the parchment up by its corner and tosses it into the fireplace to burn. “You're not so difficult to understand,” he says, watching it crumble into ash. “When I saw her, I thought of you. And look, here you are. Just as I asked you to be.”

“What do you want, Dall?” 

Instead of answering, Dall takes his time, arranging himself in Harkinian's chair. The leather creaks as he sinks into it and it settles around his girth. Comfortable, he gestures to an empty seat across from the desk. “Sit.” 

He is almost giddy at the formality of his command, as if Ganondorf truly answered to him. Even if the piggish general ignores him.

“I have men to train. State your business. I recommend with haste,” Ganondorf says. 

Harkinian's office almost seems too cheerful to hold their animosity. The drapes are open, to let the sun shine in. Books are stacked neatly, waiting to be shelved. Flowers bloom in a vase on the desk. Zelda's doing, no doubt.

“Fine. To business then.” He folds his hands across his belly and looks up at Ganondorf, amused. “I'm sure you've heard the rumors of certain indiscretions happening here, in the King's own home.”

“I was not aware you had to time for idle gossip, in between lording over us and cowing your boy into submission.”

Dall laughs again and Ganondorf swallows his annoyance. “What if I were to tell you it is not so much idle gossip, but fact?”

“If you have a point, Dall, I wish you would make it.”

Dall sighs a long suffering sigh. So quick to rush to his demise. Dall would not even have a chance to savor it. “I know about you and Zelda. If you do not concede to my demands, Harkinian will know as well.”

A tense silence. 

Dall still sits with his hands on his belly while he waits for Ganondorf to hang himself. The hourglass near the vase of flowers drains its top half dry. Dall isn't sure what he is waiting for; perhaps Ganondorf would finally fall to his knees before him and beg for mercy. That would be gratifying enough to see, Dall might actually consider mercy.

Then the tension is cut by Ganondorf's short, dry laugh. “You know nothing.” 

Dall can see his fantasy crumbling to the same black ash in the fireplace. But he is careful not to react.“I saw you with her.”

“When? In the yard, training with her sword? Harkinian already knows of it. Hardly the torrid romance you seem to think it is.” He laughs again, pressing his hands on the desk and leaning forward, into Dall's space. “You know less than nothing.”

He must stand and meet this challenge face-to-face. “Do you really think I would need proof? You're far more trouble than you're worth, General. My word alone would be enough to tender your execution!”

Ganondorf fingers begin to dig into the desk, his magic gathering under his palms, charring the wood underneath. Dall did not notice, or if he did, he did not care. “Then why are you wasting my time with this nonsense? By all means, take the matter to Harkinian!”

“Because I thought we could settle this as gentlemen ought to. It would've spared your dignity.”

“My dignity?” He scoffs, “You idle threat while pretending to be a king and it is my dignity that must be spared?” The desk begins to crack under Ganondorf's weight. “Your silly threats mean nothing. And you? Less than nothing.”

Dall eases back into the chair behind him, eyes narrowed. “I won't forget this, General.”

“Good. See that you don't.”

Without a word, Ganondorf leaves him where he sits and even though Dall knows he has won, the victory feels hollow.

* * *

“You must be still, my lady, or the seams will never be straight.”

Zelda stills where she stands on the pedestal. The dress she wears is ivory white, its high collar hugging her neck. Delicate patterns made of pearl beads are sewn into the hem along the edges of the skirt. Its sleeves are long and soft and taper at her wrists. It is too fine a dress for her, she thinks. But she admires it anyway in the many mirrors that surround her.

She would too soon be married. A few months ago, she would've at least pretended enthusiasm. Now she could not be bothered for even that much. Her interest in this marriage diminished quite some time ago. Casus' too, if his absence is any indication. She sees even less of him now and he is barely more than a passing thought. Her heart lies elsewhere. 

Her thoughts turn to her General as the seamstress fusses with the hem at her feet. He would be at her wedding no doubt, dressed in the ceremonial armor he hardly wears since it offers little protection. But she cannot deny he looks handsome in it. It would take effort not to stare the whole night through. At least for now, she would not have to look away.

She must be smiling, because the seamstress stops in front of her, a grin on her face. “Thinking about your beloved, my lady? If you don't mind my saying so.” She's young, with high, smooth cheeks and round ears, her hair pinned up high. Young enough to think this marriage is something other than convenience and politics.

Zelda starts, her brow furrowing. “What?”

“Begging your pardon. I meant nothing by it. You looked so happy. I thought you were thinking about someone special. I spoke out of turn.” She curtsies and keeps her head low.

“No, I just.” Zelda pauses, lets the word sink in and she smiles again at the girl in front of her. “My beloved?”

“Yes. My mother says only a sweetheart can put that look on your face.” When she looks up, she smiles, her eyes shining like stars. “I think it's sweet that you love him so.” 

“I do,” Zelda says, after a beat of silence, “I love him very much.”

The seamstress smiles, warmth blooming high in her cheeks, before she shakes away her daydreams and settles on her knees to finish the hem. “You'll make him a lovely bride, I'm sure of it. Sir Cassus won't be able to take his eyes off of you.”

Reality returns and Zelda is grateful the seamstress never looks up.

* * *  
Her guests arrive in carriages inlaid with gold. 

Dignitaries from far flung corners of the kingdom and some beyond Hyrule's borders. Zelda's wedding is not for a few more days, but Harkinian thought it a nice gesture to entertain them and lay their worries to rest. Assure them that their dealings would be directly with Hyrule's Queen and her husband, not the chancellor. She greets them as warmly as she can, with Casus by her side. At least he smiles more than she does. When they ask if she is ready for marriage, she hesitates only long enough to be endearing and looks down at her fingers twisting in the skirt of her dress. Then she says she is ready for it to be over and no one can say she is a liar. 

When no one is looking, the betrothed keep a respectable distance between them. Zelda steals glances at him as their first banquet carries on. Their time apart has not been kind to the poor boy. He seems too small in his clothes, drawn and pale. She wonders if he is ill and tries to ask him, but he pays her no attention. 

When Ganondorf arrives, he is fashionably late. The party stills as he descends into the crowd. It is a mix of apprehension and distaste that greet the General. Zelda herself smiles, but he does not go to her, instead taking his place near Harkinian and Dall. 

He is much more handsome here than in her imagination. 

She is thankful for his arrival, because it is easy to forget anyone else is in the room. They steal looks and when the dancing starts, he steals her all together. Casus does not protest. 

Ganondorf smiles at her while they wait for their cue in the music. When it begins, he steps in close and bows. “We must speak, Princess,” he whispers when she puts her hand in his. 

“Oh? Is it terribly urgent?” 

They turn with the other dancers, following the ebb and flow of the music. “Not terribly so. But something you should be aware of nonetheless.”

Zelda's imagination does not run so much as gallop into the possibilities. She imagines a life faraway from this one, simple and good in a cottage on a distant shore. No one would know them and they would have their lives together and a happy ending. He startles her back into reality when he touches her. “Not here. Later.” And he bows again as the music ends. Then he is gone, back at her father's side. 

At last, dinner was served. The guests fill the tables and Zelda sits near to her father at the head of the table. It is her great luck that Ganondorf sits across from her. She must stop herself from smiling like a giddy child. Casus sits on the other side of her and it is the most animated he has been the entire night. He fidgets endlessly with his tunic, tugging and pulling at the hem. 

Harkinian stands well into the meal, his cup of wine lifted high. “Might I say I am greatly honored to have you all here at my table, sharing in my boundless joy.” A shallow breath follows every word, so he pauses then looks at Zelda and smiles. She can see the sweat gathering at Harkinian's bro, but remembers the chandeliers burning high above. 

“Soon, I wil...” Another pause and around her, Zelda could hear the whispers.

Color drains from Harkinian's face, his hand trembling against the table he holds on to in a desperate bid to keep himself upright. 

“Father, are you all right?” 

Ganondorf is already rising and catches Harkinian when his strength fails him. He collapses against Ganondorf, a colorless heap, drab against the vibrant reds of his clothes. Zelda cries for the doctor and rushes to her father's side. 

As if on cue, Dall stands and begins to dismiss the crowd gathering around the fallen king, calling for guards to help keep them back, sending servants into town to fetch the squat old doctor. 

“There is no privacy here,” Ganondorf says to Zelda. He gathers up Harkinian as if he weighs nothing and nods for the Princess to follow. He carries Harkinian to his chambers and puts him to bed. Zelda waits in the hallway, too afraid to see her father sick again. 

When Ganondorf returns, she hurries up to him, curling her fingers into his robes. “Is he all right?” 

“I don't know. He takes shallow breaths. Curled into himself as soon as he was put to bed.”

It made no sense to her. He was getting well. Why this so sudden change? Zelda turns from Ganondorf, so he would not see her cry. So he would not try to comfort her and invite unwanted questions. But Ganondorf turns her so she must face him and pulls her against his chest, arms wrapped tight around her.

For now, she is safe here and he dares anyone to challenge it.


End file.
